


Plural(s)

by ezilo



Category: The Underland Chronicles - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Siblings, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezilo/pseuds/ezilo
Summary: "- What happens in those nightmares?- I see them.- Them?- The bugs."Years after the family returns, Boots tells Gregor about her nightmares. About what she sees in them. Gregor is faced then with a choice. The kind of choice he has fled from his whole life.He makes a choice.





	1. Nightmare(s)

Plural(s)

Chapter 1: Nightmare(s)

Gregor was woken up by yet another nightmare, but he was so used to it that his fear wasn't so invasive; he just automatically got up, and, ignoring his shaking being, he slowly walked towards the kitchen. As he filled a glass with cold water, his lungs eagerly reached for the delicious oxygen that was slowly calming him, and he stood there for a moment, trying to concentrate on his feet, imagining them digging roots in the kitchen tiles, focusing on the freshness of the air surrounding him. Through the years, he had tried out many coping mechanisms. None of them completely worked; some worse than others. He could see every outline of their apartment, thanks to echolocation, but that realization only made him close his eyes, pressuring them in a vain attempt to contain the anger, frustration and sadness filling every available cavity in his body at the thought of the Underland; and who he had left there. Swallowing, letting the icy water strangle his despair, he heard a movement from the girls' room. Sheets were being pushed, and he could hear soft sobs, hiccups, heavy breathes and almost sensed the sadness of what seemed to be cries; he would have known that sound anywhere. Boots was crying. His Boots was crying. He dropped the glass, and it almost fell off the counter, but he didn't take a look back and immediately made his way to the room, panic streaming down his face, only to find her, curled up on her bed, arms wrapped against legs she had brought up to her chest, face buried between her knees. It shattered his heart to see her like this, and he rushed to her side.  
“Boots?” he whispered.  
“Gregor?” her sweet voice answered, and she turned to face him. “What are you doing here?”  
“I heard you cry. You know I can't just stand there while my little Boots cries...” he said, and took one of her curls, placing it behind her ear. She smiled.  
“- I can't believe you still call me that.  
\- You know you like it. After all, I'm the only one in the family allowed to do so.” He puffed his chest out and proudly raised his head. She chuckled, and he was delighted by that sound, but still noticed the tears clinging to her eyes, even as she batted her lids to imprison the next ones.  
“Do you wanna talk about it?” She half nodded, half shook her head, and he promptly reassured her, stating that she could tell him anything.  
“-I know, it's just that... Ugh, you're gonna think I'm crazy!  
\- Trust me, this family already is. I'm used to it. Tell me.” He locked eyes with her, and her brown eyes were full of apprehension. Was she scared? Probably. The only question was if she was scared of what had happened, or of telling him.  
“I had a nightmare. And, it wasn't the first time. Actually, I've been having a lot of nightmares for a very long time. And they all resemble each other. And I'm so scared, because they seem so real, Gregor.” indeed, she appeared to be terrified.  
“-What happens in those nightmares?  
\- I see them.  
\- Them?” he took in a sharp breath, and she frowned, wrinkles forming on her forehead. She answered as if it were self-evident.  
“- The bugs. They're huge, so enormous, and at the same time it seems so, so normal. As if I had encountered giant insects. But those bugs, actually sometimes I see other stuff, like mice or something like that, they're still scary, and I'm just horrified when I wake up. And oh my god I'm talking about huge animals!” she paused, and started crying again, which was actually lucky since it gave Gregor the opportunity to hide his shocked expression. He definitely did not expect this. Boots wasn't supposed to have any memories from her young childhood. His astonishment was due to the simple fact that he had no clue on how to act. This was never taken in consideration by anyone in the family, and certainly not him. He never took anything in consideration. She glanced at him, so he stammered:  
“- Is, is the nightmare itself scary?  
\- No. Not really. Actually, it's kind of nice down there. No, what I'm scared of is that it seems like I actually lived it. It feels like memories. And I'm scared that this is the Secret.  
\- The Secret?”  
Wow. Not only were those memories-nightmares the Underland, but she had said “down there”. If she had only had emerging reminiscences, it would have been manageable. But this, the way she instinctively knew it was “down there”, this was truly worrying.  
“Boots? The Secret?” she fumbled with her pajamas, gasped for air, stopped herself and looked at him with guilty eyes.  
“- The secret you, and the parents and Lizzie have kept from me. I know there is one, I'm sorry, I just....  
\- Oh, sweetheart”, he exclaimed as her tears increased, and leaning towards her, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight. She despaired against him, loud sobs emerging from her body, and he stroke her hair, awkwardly rocking her. He had to take a decision, now. Brush his sister's worries off, conceal her the truth some more, or open up to her, uncloaking the mysteries that had too long enveloped the family. And probably make her miserable. How could he do such a thing? Did he even have a right to break her bubble, her perception of what her own life was? They were happy. He was happy. He had her, his parents and his job, and that was it, and she was fifteen, and he couldn't break her in this way. However, he could not sit next to her and remain silent either. Shouldn’t she be able to know what her life really was? He hadn't realized that he was humming a melody during his reflexion until Boots whispered “That's pretty”. At first he was startled, but as he noticed his own action, and recognized the air, he shuddered. He had been murmuring the prophecy of Secrets to his darling sister. He couldn't believe that he associated her with massive murders, tortures and suffering. Images of the nibblers agonizing in the volcano flashed through his mind, and he was suddenly terrified by all of this. Terrified by the fact that he didn't call rats rats. Terrified by the fact that Lizzie had chosen to get as far as possible from her family, from him, because it was just too hard for her to live with him. Terrified by the grief he had carried all his life without sharing it.  
Terrified that he had never told Boots about the Underland. She deserved to know, it wasn't fair that she ignored everything she had been. As he dived into his sister's eyes, he saw everything they had lived together. Those eyes were the reason he had been on five quests. He remembered how much joy they had shown, when she had been dropped from bat to bat, the first time he had been there. He recollected the brown shade of terror he had seen in them when she had watched him rage against the octopuses. He could still recall the veil hiding them as dehydration and hunger took over her body. And the sparkle in them when, after his talk with Ripred, he had been playful again, he had been her big brother again, full of hope; even though all had predicted him death.  
Yes, he decided, it was time. It was time for Boots to know who she was. And where she came from. Because the Underland had partly raised her, and made her. Underland was her roots. And to hell with reasonable!  
“Boots, honey, I'm guessing you noticed that there is something in this family. A mystery. A “Secret” as you say.” She looked up to him, curious through her tears.  
“- I did. Sometimes I'd ask Lizzie, but she always brushed me off, and when I insisted, she had a panic attack...  
\- Why didn't you ever ask me?  
\- I knew it was about you. And you have always been so, so unhappy. It's like you can't connect with anyone. You and mom always fight, and you and dad just never talk about anything important. Lizzie can't even stand to look at you, god knows why! But with me, you talk. You talk about Natasha. About who you are. About who you want to become. I just, I just couldn't bare to break this, to break us. I can talk to you, and you don't judge me; I might have a lot of friends, but I really can talk to you. And just you. I can't afford to not be able to talk with you. Gregor, look at me!”  
He didn't obey. He had almost been moved to tears by that speech, and he felt like he had been betraying her all this time. Even though he had hidden things from her all this time, he completely agreed with her. From a young age, Boots had been his confident, since he was striving for someone he trusted and didn't look at him with that look the rest of his family gave him. When they glanced at him, he could feel the pity, anger, and utter disappointment they felt towards him. But Boots saw him as her big, tormented but protective brother; and that felt damn good.  
“- Gregor! Have you been lying to me all this time?  
\- No, honey, no! I do confide in you. You are exactly that to me, you know that. But I did hide some things from you. Because we decided it would be best for you. And I chose not to tell you, because I'm an idiotic egoist. I didn't tell you 'cause I needed someone who didn't know.  
\- Didn't tell me what?”  
He sighed. Took a look at her.  
“- What exactly do you see?  
\- Why do you wanna know? Give me an explanation, dammit! This is so confusing...  
\- Just trust me, alright? Can you do that, please?  
\- Sure. I guess. Can't really tell you no, can I? I see, well, giant cockroaches. I remember riding one. I see you. With a sword. I see you killing some kind of something with it, I'm not sure what it was, and, and I was so scared of you. When I have a really bad nightmare, you go towards me, sword in hand, dark look, like you're about to kill me. And I remember swimming in cold water with the same cockroach. And a jungle. Oh, and volcanos. Flying over them. And you letting me fall from something flying. It's mostly you, with blood. Sometimes injured, sometimes killing others, or me. And that cockroach. The same. All the time. Isn't it crazy? I mean, this doesn't exist, right? Is it like a story you used to tell me?  
\- Oh god... You remember so much.”  
He reached over to her and embraced her once more, holding her body tight, breathing her scent that had stayed the same. At first she didn't react, probably because she didn't understand why he hugged her with such a strength, almost violently. “I remember? I remember so much? Do you mean it's real? It's memories?” he didn't have the strength to answer her, if only to admit what she already understood. So he dug his face deeper in the curve of her neck, and his silence served as a confession. “Oh. Well now I know.” Melancholy dripped from her words, and she closed her arms around his back, gripping his pajamas. He was surprisingly overwhelmed with pride. He was so proud of her. He didn't know why, but he was. As he let her go, she opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off.  
“- Boots, I'm gonna tell you everything.  
\- Really? You are?  
\- Yeah. You deserve to know. And if it can help you with the nightmares, I would do anything. But do you mind? Do you mind if I tell you? Wouldn't you like it better if Mom or Dad told you?  
\- No. Actually, I prefer it if you tell me the story. Because I have a feeling only you can tell me everything.  
\- How could you know that?  
-Instinct.” she answered with a mischievous smile. He got up, and held his hand out for her. “Let's get ourselves something to drink, first. This is going to be a long story.” She hesitated, but put her hand in his, and leaning on him, she raised herself. Hand in hand, like the first time they faced the Underlanders in that arena, except of course she had been riding a roach, they walked towards the kitchen, to face once again one of the biggest hardships of their life.


	2. Bubble(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coke, tears, and confessions

Chapter 2: Bubble(s)

As they reached the kitchen, Gregor reluctantly let go of his sister's hand, and carefully checked that the door to his parent's room was indeed closed. Because of the rather long corridor between the bedroom and the living-room, that also served as a kitchen, the couple wouldn't hear them. Gregor headed back to the large, welcoming room, where his sister sat at the dining-room table, a glass of coke and another filled with apple juice in front of her. He smiled fondly at this sight, and sat next to her. Grabbed his glass and swallowed, letting the prickling liquid invade his mouth, in hopes it would give him courage and strength. It didn't. But he still started recounting their story, their voyage. In all the times he had told his adventures to his family, like he used to with every return from the Underland, or when he narrated it to Vikus or Luxa, never had he been able to explain his feelings in such a manner. Boots was eager to know, and she listened so carefully. But Boots was also interested in his feelings, in order to remember hers. So he told her about his fear in the quest for his father, about how he simultaneously longed to find him as well as he dreaded it. When he started with the second quest, and as he recited the prophecy, Boots held a hand to her mouth, gasping, and immediately asked, as if she was reading a polar, “A barely talking pup? Is that, is that me? Did they kill me?” she suddenly realized what she had said and snorted, falling into a nervous giggling, probably in fear of what would come. He laughed along with her, and after they eventually stopped, she raised her head, and, looking at him, whispered, “Oh god we're so weird...” he nodded, and she put her hand on his, spreading warmth through his limb muscles, reenforcing the strength their kin gave them. “Okay, Ge-go”, she smiled, “go on. I want to know”. So he went on. As he did, he felt her by his side, felt how her eyes widened as he disclosed every episode of their adventures, sensed her confusion at his tellings as her mind provided her with long faded memories. She half-smiled, half-winced in horror as he described how she had played with the poisonous frogs, but seemed utterly terrified when he recounted of the massacre of the nibblers. As he told her of the horror, he looked down, swallowed hard, and the same weight clung to his chest as all those years ago at the sight of the mouse trembling, twitching one last time before they simply stopped... living. To see death was an experience he was glad he had preserved his sister from. She had already observed too much over the years. Boots tightened her grip on his hand, and he was able to go on, to continue; but he didn't make a simple rapport of all the events that occurred, he confided in her, tried to explain how in the chaos that was the whole trip following the nibblers, he had been confronted to his sensations, to the naked truth of how he really felt about Luxa. Never before had they so violently confronted each other and never again, and still he had fallen for her, for the queen she already was and for the woman she would become. And it consumed him that he would never really know.  
He was very proud that he only burst into tears when he described the death of his bat. It was a new record. Still, he completely panicked, and let tears invade his eyes and befallen his cheeks. He knew this last battle inside and out, and he heard his shout, directing Ares to get closer, as his chest rose in hiccups, and Boots joined in his laments, whispering over his shoulder as she embraced him, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Gregor...” her so sincere grief made him cry harder, thinking about how he could have entertained her memories instead of separating her of them; how he could have mourned with her. They stayed in the same position, hugging tight, the weight of secrets, sadness, between them but their bond stronger than it had ever been.  
“- I never wanted to hide this from you. As you know, when we came back, and even though we moved, I remain haunted by the Underland. And so do Mom and Dad. Look what it did to Liz. It wrecked me. Us. We simply wanted you to be able to have a normal life. It's ridiculous, I know that now. But understand us, please. I couldn't bare you being mad at me, not talking with me anymore. Please don't make me lose you.  
\- Like you lost Lizzie?” He nervously sobbed and lost total control over himself. He fell into Boots arms, while she held him, and he cried because his sister couldn't talk with him anymore, because he lost his sensitive Liz, the person he had always wanted to protect more than anything.  
“- Do you think she'll be able to be normal with me again? Someday?  
\- I know it. She loves you. You love her. You just need to show her you are more than a broken, bitter war survivor. You need to show her you can laugh, enjoy, live.  
\- Can I?”  
He had never been certain he could adapt to this world, and now he was almost sure he never would.  
\- Maybe it's time for me to go back there. After all, you know now. And beside my work, nothing is really tying me here. Perhaps without me, you'll all be able to move on.  
-You can't, you can't go back!” she panicked “What would I become without you?”. He sadly looked up to her. “And what have you become with me? I forced you to suppress your memories and your feelings. I failed you. I failed us. I failed Lizzie.” A long silence followed. Boots and Gregor held hands, and he shot dark looks to the floor. He didn't have anything to say anymore. He wasn't sure he ever really would have anything to say again.  
“No. No you didn't. I'm still here. Mom is here. Dad is here, Liz too. You saved us. You saved our family. We survived wars, quests, battles, wounds, illness. You saved Regalia, the Fount, you saved children, you saved rats and bats and cockroaches and Nerrissa and Vikus and Luxa!” Boots exclaimed.  
“No warriors ever leave war. I read a book about a french soldier who got back from World War I and never talked about it. To anyone. And all those who came back from extermination camps, and lived a few years before committing suicide, even as they appeared to be doing just fine. You never could have gone out of this unharmed. None of us could. And even without you, we would still remember the Underland. You are not the source of our sorrow. Our sorrow lives within us. It always has. You know, I've been having nightmares for a long time, almost forever. And sometimes I have déjà-vus that I absolutely don't understand. It tortured me. And this whole family conflict that I couldn't grasp, the way I was left in the dark about so many things, it was horrible. But now, I understand. And I love that I understand, no matter how horrifying the truth is. Because we all carry scars, Gregor. But you can't blame yourself for our scars. You can only heal yours. Liz made her own choice, and so did you. But you must soothe yourself in order to mend your relationship. And more importantly, you must stay.” Words echoed in his mind, as he felt, for the first time since he came back, a weight fall from his mind, a voice that had told him, all those years, that it was all his fault, faded under the sound of Boots' speech.  
“- When did you get so wise?  
\- Not know when, I do, not know when” she whispered, and Gregor chuckled when he heard her imitate the crawlers.  
“- I'll stay. I will. And I will try to fix things up with our sister. I will.  
\- Thank you Gregor.” she seemed to be retaining something, not disclosing the entire truth, but her smile made him overlook it, and convinced him to open himself to something he had never bared to think of for too long of a time.  
“Come on” he said, grabbing her hand and getting up, “I want to show you something” he guided her to his room, and opened the last drawer of one of his wardrobes. He had left his room intact and little had changed over the years since his moving. Some furniture had been stored there, and it served as a guestroom most of the time. Boots had told him that she sometimes went in it just to remember some moments, because she missed him. Still, as much as she missed him, Gregor felt the weight of not being with Boots every day, and perhaps even more than her. Digging his hand in the mess that was this voluntary forgotten drawer, he took hold of the stack of pictures he hadn't looked upon in years, and sat on his bed, Boots following after carefully closing the door. He had left them behind upon moving, not bringing himself to hold them, to contemplate them again. He was about to explain her where the pictures where from, when they had been taken, and everything else, but he froze on his bed, eyes locked in Luxa's, who’s purple irises dived into his, renewing suffering, tears, and melancholic love he never thought she could make him perceive again. So it was Boots who turned on the light, and whispered “Gregor? That's Luxa, isn't it?” he simply nodded, and surprised himself with a drop of salty sorrow making its way down to his jaw. He would have never considered that his eyes still held tears to pour.  
“Yeah” he sniffed, “Yeah that's her.” Boots took the picture from his hand, but he didn't mind. Observing it, her, or them, she sighed, “She's beautiful. She really is.” she returned it to him, and he let it rest on the nightstand, convinced he needed it with him from now, and handed her the next picture. It depicted Underland children dancing at Hazard's birthday. The scene was beautiful, it really captured the movement of the young boys and girls who stepped toward each other, and where about to twirl. The sun shone on their light hair, and Gregor remembered how beautiful and perfect that afternoon had been; at least for a few instants. They looked at every picture together, and Boots teared up at the sight of her feeding Temp cake. He recalled the way Luxa had laughed at the sight of that. At the bottom of the stack was the rest of the photos he had taken with her in the museum. Those he would never forget, because that was the most comfortable he had ever been with someone. In those moments, he felt like anything could happen, and he wouldn't even care; the war seemed so far away at that time. Yet mere minutes later he was battling the Bane. This sense of surreal liberty had never found his way to him again, even though he had desperately needed it. Boots stared at them, at them laughing and smiling, chuckling and living, and she whispered, “Oh Gregor. You were so in love weren't you?”  
His eyes fell on Luxa's face, on her smiling features, and he whispered back:

“I still am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um. Sorry? I don't really like this chapter but it's been messing with my head for too long. The next ones will definitely be longer. Thanks to whoever is reading! It means a lot.


	3. Nickname(s)

It was morning now. They had talked the night away. His sister had asked so many questions he had never considered, and he had answered, at least he had tried to, in the last few hours. They laid on the bed, Boots had rested her head against his chest, and he held her against him, his little sister, his pup, his treasure.  
“So, you think Temp is still alive, you think maybe he remembers me?”  
“Of course, he does. You're his princess. You've lived so much together. He saved you, and you loved him so much. For months you said “Hi” to cockroaches after we came back, and told me to “say hi to temp!” and every time, it broke my heart.” he sighed. So many images of her and Temp made their way to his mind at that moment, but especially the way she had recognized him in the land of the crawlers. “You, there!” her impetuous tone, the astonishment that had taken hold of him when they all realized that she had recognized in him the insect that had brought them to the arena, it all seemed so real in his memory. As if he simply needed to reach out and the memory would envelop him completely.  
“How come it went so wrong with Liz?”  
“I'm not sure, sweetie. The thing is, I was so unhappy, so broken, after we came back, I needed to push it all down, to deny it, to forget it all. I'm not saying it was healthy, but it was the only way for me. But Lizzie ruminated it for months. I just said nothing. I stopped speaking, I stopped giving my opinion on anything. I basically stopped living. And you know Lizzie's mind. She wouldn't stop thinking about it, talking about it. It drove me crazy. It woke up the rager. I couldn't stop myself from yelling at her. She wanted to remember, because she wanted to live with it, to learn with the experience. And I couldn't live with it. I can't. We just couldn't live together anymore. But as you know, we just did. For years, we avoided each other, until Liz couldn't take it anymore, and accepted that scholarship. And now, she's so far away, and she's happy, she's thriving. I read the emails she sends mom, and I'm so...so” His voice broke, and only Boots' touch made him finish.  
“I'm so proud of her.”  
“Then you need to tell her that.”  
“What? How am I even supposed to do that?”  
“Well, mom and dad didn't tell you, but she's coming today.”  
“What? How come I'm the last one who knows this! Why didn’t anyone tell me?”  
He was really mad. He hated being ambushed, it reminded him of the war, of the jungle, of too many unexpected surprises that had led to deaths and desolation, to him losing people he deeply cared about, much more than he knew, than he expected before they lost their light. Surprises really weren't his thing.  
“Yeah, and that's why we don't tell you stuff.” He was startled by her mocking voice, and looked around him. He had clenched the sheets, and as he turned his head toward the mirror on the opposite wall, he was afraid of his reflection; eyebrows furrowed, forehead wrinkled, eyes dark, bitter twist of the mouth, he was scary. Apparently, not that scary for Boots, even though he detected a ray of buried fear, in her backing off posture, and the fading of her smile.  
“- I guess I can seem a bit impulsive. But you should know, I never have, and never will hurt you, sweetie. Ever.  
\- I know. You're my big brother.” Her joyful smile cheered him up once again, and he turned to his clock.  
“- Hey! How 'bout some birthday breakfast for my princess?  
\- Yay!” she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he held her in his, eventually lifting her up, even though he staggered, and he carried her to the living-room, just like he did years ago, whenever she needed him. The older she got, the harder it became to carry her, and he had regretted it. Holding his sister against him was one of the best things he had ever felt. The tingling warmth of her chubby body against his heart as she fell asleep, completely and utterly trusting him, that was love. The soft kind. It was nothing like what he had felt when he kissed Luxa. It was less violent, less passionate. It felt like a balm on a throbbing scar, like caramel melting in your mouth. A siblings' love.  
“- Ooh, sweetie I love you, but you're kind of heavy!  
\- Oh shut up!” she tapped him on the shoulder. He put her down, and stretched as if he had just done gymnastics. She laughed and sat down. He opened the cupboard and took out four plates, before hesitating.  
“- When is Liz coming?  
\- Her train is arriving around ten, I think.”  
Glancing at the microwave, he saw it was already nine thirty. He took hold of another plate, and as he placed them around the table, Boots' eyes widened.  
“- Really? The pretty ones?  
\- Yep! Anything for my princess!” She smiled, but Gregor knew she was pretty shaken up by the events of the night, which he completely understood. They were really loose and made jokes, but they both knew that as soon as the parents woke up, and that Lizzie arrived, they would have to tell them that she knew. She tried to get up but he stopped her, it was her birthday, there was no way he would make her do anything more than she already had to do on this day. Grabbing four glasses, he placed them to the right of the porcelain plates, embellished by pink and white roses. But he took a plastic glass for Boots, the one they kept from her childhood, the one she had used for every birthday since she was three. It was transparent but featured bats, birds and ladybugs flying above green grass. She had made it herself when she was in pre-school, and even though it wasn't the greatest piece of art the world had ever seen, it was tradition that she ought to drink from it on her birthday. Boots asked a few more questions while he readied the coffee machine, letting spoons of the brown powder fall onto the lower part of the coffee pot, already filled, beneath the filter, by water.  
“You do realize that I was eleven at the time?”  
“Oh don't tell me you weren't interested in that kind of thing. Later, I know you did, but the first time we were there, what did you think? Come on, I want to know!”  
“Fine, but you're so spoiled…”  
“Yes I know. Come on, tell me! Did you think Luxa was pretty at first?” It was a question that needed contemplation. He remembered thinking how conceited she was. And when he saw her with short hair he had rambled about how she was pretty with both.  
“To be honest, I didn't ask myself the question at the time. But when we came back, and I reflected about it, and remembered her, yeah, I guess I thought she was pretty. Not ugly at least.”  
“Well I personally think she's stunning.”  
“Tell me about it.” he lit the cooking plate, rested the pot on it, and waited for it to let steam escape it. Boots was quiet, probably thinking about another detail she could ask him about. As he opened the fridge, he heard footsteps in the hallway, and turned to see his parents walk in, already dressed. They contemplated their children, and smiled happily.  
“- Okay, Gregor, we have something to tell you.  
\- Yeah, yeah, I know, Liz is coming. Boots told me.  
\- Oh, Boots! You know we wanted to tell him ourselves.  
\- It's Margaret for you. And I wanted to tell him, as his sister, that his other sister is coming to visit.”  
Waouh. Boots had toughened up, and she was mad. Really angry, judging by her tone, which he understood. So, to demonstrate his support, he put his hand on her shoulder.  
“Well, that day started out well!” his father shouted out and asked “Hey son, is there any coffee?” Gregor shook his head, “Not yet”. His father smiled at him.  
“- So who's picking her up?  
\- Me, I guess. Grace, you wanna come with me?  
\- Sure, why not? I'm so glad to see her!”  
She walked over to her daughter and placed a kiss on her cheek, whispering “Happy Birthday sweetie!”. Boots stayed still, but Grace didn't notice, and poured the now brewed coffee into a thermos, before handing it to her husband. “We should go now, we don't want to be late” and after his father wished his daughter a happy birthday, the parents headed out. Gregor took out the flatware, the cups, the bread, and put the butter on the table. Boots had crossed her arms on her chest, and her face had turned hard, ruthless, and slightly disgusted. He had known, guessed, that she would react this way upon seeing her parents. The two beings who were supposed to raise her didn't disclose to her one of the most important event of her life, that should have been a part of her education.  
“- Oh sweetie, I know it's hard, but you have to understand them.  
\- Some day I will. But not now.” She rose from her chair, and started pacing up and down the room, nervously twitching her fingers, trying to calm herself down while blaming herself for doing so. Gregor observed her and recognized his own gestures, his own doubts in hers. It felt good, it felt like a relief, but he wasn't sure it was healthy to feel happy about his sister’s torments. Yeah, probably not. He approached her, and placed a hand on her shoulder but she twitched and shrugged him off. Apparently, his face showed the utmost hurt he suffered at her action, as she guiltily looked down. “I'm sorry, I'm just, confused, and lost, and I'm about to tell my parents I discovered their secret, and it feels like a betrayal, and I'm like, no, it's not a betrayal, it's your right, it's your childhood, but I still feel... crappy.” she seemed tortured, and as he withheld his instinctive hug, he simply stated that he knew, he understood, it was extremely complicated, but she needed to do whatever made her comfortable, on a moral level. Her brown eyes surprised him with a few tears threatening to fall out, but she batted her eyelids and heavily breathed a few times.  
“- I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna confront them.  
\- Good. I'll be right here. And...” he ran to his room as quickly as possible and took hold of the pictures before flipping through them and finding the one with Boots and Temp.  
“- Temp'll be there too.  
\- Thanks, Gregor. That's a great idea.” she caressed the photo, “And thanks for telling me the truth. Really, thanks.” She hugged him tight, and he smiled against her hair.  
“Ok, now go get dressed!” she pulled herself away from him, and headed for her bedroom shouting “You go get dressed!”. He smiled at the closed door, and obeyed her, for once wearing something almost classy; a long sleeved black shirt, and matching jeans. He never wore bright colors, but as he took a look at his mirror, he realized how dark and depressing an all-black look could seem.  
“- Hey Boots!  
\- Yeah?  
\- Do you mind if I wear black?  
\- What? I can't hear you!” he sighed. That was the down point of having a bigger apartment; you can't talk to everybody from every room.  
“- I said, do you mind if I wear black?  
\- I don't mind usually! Honestly, it doesn't matter what you wear...  
\- Thanks, sweetheart...”  
Something bothered him in his reflection, but he didn't see what until Boots burst into the room and gasped. “Gregor! You look, you look like I remember you fighting. You look like a warrior. The warrior.” His eyes wandered back to the mirror. Of course. Why hadn't it hit him before? During the war, his armor had been black. The memory of Miravet adjusting the pieces of it imposed itself in his mind, and he smiled because he now understood that he must have definitely looked kind of stupid. Well, Ares had told him he looked good. Although he had been black himself. He was supposed to like the colour right?  
“- Well, you certainly look like a princess!  
\- Oh, come on, I'm not even wearing a dress!  
\- You don't need a dress to look like royalty.”  
Boots wore a light blue pair of jeans, and a short sleeves shirt he had offered her for Christmas. She had loved it; it was a simple white top with navy blue stripes. She looked dashing, maybe a little too dashing. In fact, he had actually seen a few boys in her class eying her. And he definitely did not approve.  
“- You look perfect.  
\- Why thank you, my prince!” she bowed to him and he rolled his eyes handing her his arm, and she hooked hers in his. The landline rang immediately, and she answered, presuming correctly that the call was destined to her. It was. A few aunts, a couple of family acquaintances and an army of Boots' friends congratulated her. She answered sweetly, politely, not letting her anxiety show. When she hung up on the last call, it was half past ten. Gregor was staring at her.  
“What?”  
“You're an incredible liar.  
“I learned from the best.” her bitter answer dropped the mood a bit, but before any of them could say anything, Gregor's phone rang; he took it and saw a message from his mom announcing they were on time, and would be there in a minute.  
“- Alright, Mom and Dad will be back in no time, and we still have to finish setting the table.  
\- Okay, let's go!” so they cut the bread, they took out the jam, the peanut butter, and the nutella. And finally, Gregor took out the strawberry tart. Strawberry tarts were Boots' thing. As much as Gregor adored chocolate cake, and Lizzie died for an apple crumble, Boots had vowed a cult to strawberry tart; especially since last year, when she had been on a trip to Paris with her class and had bought a little strawberry tart in a small parisian bakery. The trip had been kind of a fiasco, with her friends being mean and harsh upon discovering she had already had her period, and the whole class had found out. When she had confessed it to her brother, he had almost beaten up the entire class. Boots was in between tears and laughter trying to restrain him, and Gregor was busy trying not to acknowledge the fact his sister was so grown up to fight some more, so he gave it up. It certainly wasn't a subject he wanted to debate, and they hadn't talked about it since. But he was very honored that she had confided in him. Anyway, the tart had been the high point of the trip, and since then it reminded her of how sometimes, little good things happen in a world of terror. Like Boots saying his name as he was completely depressed by having left the Underland. Like Luxa's kiss in the storm of the war. And like strawberry tart on a haunting trip.  
Yet every year it was the same struggle to find the best kind of tart for Boots. She wanted it composed of a shortbread dough and a custard cream, topped with glazed strawberries. So this year, his dad had baked the tart himself, since he was the best cook and baker of the family.  
“Waouh! It's gorgeous.” he smiled at her sparkling eyes.  
“Hey, could you go see if Mom and Dad are coming?”  
“Sure.” she headed for the window and bent over the balcony. He turned to her, a bit alarmed by how much she had leaned in, but he was quickly reassured when she returned to him, bouncing and announcing, “They're here!” She ran to the door and opened it, before hurrying down the stairs. He got out the candles and the matches, lighting the thirteen candles as quickly as possible.  
“- Elizabeth! I'm so happy that you're here!  
\- Oh, Margaret! I'm so glad to see you too! Happy Birthday!  
\- Thanks, come on in!” Gregor heard a few steps, looked up and saw his sister. She was still as tiny, small and delicate as she had always been, but she seemed to have found a semblance of stern strength when she looked at him. She was really beautiful, in that adorable, need to be protected way, and she was the only child of the family to have inherited their father's blue eyes. As he saw her, and as she saw him, an ecstatic smile spread on his face at the sight before his eyes, a smile he felt like he had held back for years. Apparently, she was as surprised as him, but returned him a shy smile. “Hi, Liz.” her smile grew a bit as she heard him, and she answered, poise and calm, “Hi, Gregor.” He quickly turned back to his other sister who leaned on his shoulder and whispered “I'm proud of you!” so quickly he barely understood it; but he was grateful of her support.  
“- Okay sweetie! It's time for the cake, well the tart. And Dad did it himself.  
\- He did? Oh thanks dad!” Boots hugged him tight, perhaps a little too long for a tart. She was emotional, and on the verge of a huge confession, so it seemed perfectly natural to Gregor that she should show such an overflow of passion. But judging by the questioning look his parents shared, it wasn't so obvious to them.  
“Mmh, honey, cake maybe?” she separated herself from her father, “Oh sure, of course... Thanks again dad, you're the best.” she hesitated in the end, her voice crackling, but she hid it under her there was an authentic one when the family sang all together “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Margaret” it all went lovely until that point, but Gregor blurted out “Boo... Margaret” in a desperate effort to hide the complicity only he shared with the youngest of the family. His mother seemed kind of hurt, but she brushed it off; Lizzie however widened her eyes as she realized what exactly this whole nickname habit meant: it summed up everything about the imbalance of the family. The strong bond, the closeness, the thread that connected them had isolated the other members of their family, even though it was mostly Gregor; Boots stayed a very social, open person. Which wasn't exactly Gregor's case. But they quickly recovered, sang the end of the ritual ballad together, and Boots blew on the candles. All the flames burned down and they clapped loudly. It was done. His Boots was thirteen.  
As he looked into her eyes, he remembered. This was just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, the confrontation.  
> Happy New Year, if you celebrate it now.
> 
> You're welcome to correct any mistakes I made, as English is not my native language.


	4. Sibling(s)

Chapter 4: Sibling(s)

The tart was delicious. The custard melted on his tongue, the shortbread dough felt perfect against the juicy strawberries, but Gregor almost didn't enjoy it. He was too anxious, of course, but he was also concentrated on Lizzie's stories about her school. She had the same look on her face as in the times when she had cracked the code, and he was fascinated by her passion. He was just as dedicated to his job as she to her studies, but he had never been to college while Lizzie was excelling in everyone of her classes. She had hesitated for a long time but had mastered in mathematics, something she loved and was more than good at. She wanted to become a mathematician, and according to her teachers, she had a lot of chances to get a job as soon as she graduated, despite her shockingly young age. She was narrating the way she had solved a math problem, and both of their parents were lost; this was way above all of their league, but Gregor tried to hold on to her explanations, and he kind of got it.  
“So that means...”  
“That the unknown is 3π × 10³.” Gregor answered spontaneously. They all looked at him: with shock from his mom, surprise from his dad, astonishment from Lizzie, and pride from Boots.  
“Yes. Right Gregor.”  
“How did you know that?”  
“It seemed logical. Liz explained it pretty well. Maybe you should consider becoming a teacher.”  
“Me? A teacher? Really you think?”  
“Why not? You're kind, you're obviously gifted, and you got Boots and me through math for years.”  
“Well, we'll see about that, honey, mathematician is good too.”  
“Yeah. Yeah...”. Of course. His parents wanted Liz to pursue a career in a field prestigious like research instead of education. But judging from the lost look in her eyes, she was considering it. Much to his parent's dismay.  
Boots was drinking apple juice from her plastic glass, and reached for his hand under the table, notifying him that she was about to burst out of apprehension and she now needed to tell her family the truth. He turned to her and took advantage of the fact that Liz was taking the attention of her parents to whisper to his sister “Do you want me to start?” she nodded, terrified. So Gregor braced himself and coughed a bit, drawing his family's attention to him.  
“So, we need to tell you guys something...”  
“We?”  
“Hum, yeah, me and Boots.”  
“Oh.” Waouh. They all seemed scared out of their mind. Was he doing something wrong? No, he realized, it was simply the fact that they had heard too many bad news in their life. All the times he had been in the Underland, he had endured a lot, but he couldn't begin to imagine the torture of waiting up here for others to come back, doubting they ever will. When his father had disappeared, his wife had sat at the table for nights, and the months he had waited for his mother had been crushing.   
He had always thought it had been the hardest for Lizzie, though. Because she was the last to have come to Underland, because she had waited for every single one of her family members, and because she was Lizzie. Lizzie who was so vulnerable, Lizzie who had panic attacks, Lizzie who was just old enough to understand what was going on when her dad had disappeared, but not old enough for anyone to care to explain. Yes, Lizzie sure had suffered a lot.  
They all waited for him to continue. He took one last look at Boots before deciding himself, and announced, eyes fixated on the table up until the very last syllable, when he looked up to his family.  
“I told Boots about the Underland.” They gasped, they blinked, and when his mother started yelling at him, he didn't even care, because Lizzie had a small smile on her face. It wasn't really a smile, just the corner of one. But it mattered.  
“Mom, stop it! She needs to know, and she deserves to know. I understand that you're upset, because you wanted to shield her from all of it. We all wanted to. At least save her, we thought. But we were wrong, Mom. And I think you know that.” he had grabbed her by the arms, over the table, and she had stopped struggling, numbed by his words. Or the fact that he was at least fifteen centimeters taller than her.  
“But Margaret” she started as he let go of her and she went to her daughter “weren't you scared?” Boots hadn't spoken a word about the whole thing, even though it was firstly about her.  
“I already was. I've had nightmares of the Underland for a while now. And it's much less frightening to know the reason for a fear than not to know why you wake up in tears, or terrified of a nonexistent enemy! I would rather live with the weight of the Underland than haunted by visions of my brother killing me, or giant rats strangling me!”  
“Did you really dream of Gregor killing you?”  
“Yes Lizzie. I did.”  
“Then he was right to tell you. Because all he ever did was protect you. Over or under the surface.” She walked to her young sister and took her face between her hands.  
“He put himself into all those dangers for you, Margaret. And you should remember that.”  
“That's not true” mumbled Gregor. They looked at him with surprise.  
“Don't worry honey, I did protect you, and I did do a lot to ensure your safety, but I also tried to protect you, Liz. At least there.” he pointed to the ground. “And Luxa, and Hazard, and all those we love. But the bond of blood is the strongest of all. And it was you two I wanted to protect when I faced Gorger, or when I blew my cover to save you two, in that last battle.” he tapped the Morse for SOS against the table, and Lizzie smiled. “Boots, Liz, I might have failed sometimes, but I did always try to save you. I did.” he looked to the ground, where his finger still pointed, and wondered what Luxa would have thought of that speech. She would probably agree with him. The bond of blood. Yeah. She would have liked that.  
Boots ran to him and put her head on his chest, cuddling against him, trying not to face her parents who still stood there, stunned. He placed his arm around her, in a reflex he realized was to protect her once more. But it was Lizzie who surprised him the most. She slowly walked to him, and very carefully, very hesitantly, laid her hand in his. He didn't expect it and didn't want more: this was enough for now, and he was so very thankful of her enduring love. Mostly because he hadn't deserved it.  
“Margaret honey, what did you think after hearing those stories? What did you feel?”  
“You mean after I heard the truth? Well, I was kind of afraid. But I was also really relieved. Not understanding what's going on in your own family is simply horrible. Now, I cleared a lot of things with Gregor, and it felt like heaven. I could finally make myself a picture of how hard it must have been on all of you after we came back. And to think I didn't know!” she separated herself from her brother and went to her father. Gregor had expected Lizzie to take the opportunity and pull herself away from him, but she still stood there, awkward but anchored next to him.  
“Oh boy.” he heard her whisper.  
“What?”  
“Boots is furious. This is not going to be a pretty picture.” Gregor chuckled, she was right, and they waited for their baby sister to burst out. And she did.  
“You wanna know how I feel, dad? Well here's how I feel. Betrayed. Betrayed by all of you. You hid things from me. You hid my childhood from me. And that's just not, not, really not okay. It's so cruel. This is me, me you understand? It's about my identity, my personality! And I'm just really mad right now! And I'm blaming it on all of you; Mom, Dad, Lizzie, and even you Gregor. Sure, you told me, but after all we went through, you owed it to me, and to all our friends in the Underland, to raise me with that knowledge, to just tell me about it okay?!” she gasped for air, but carried on, “I deserved it. I might have only been three, but I did show bravery. And kindness. And, and, Vikus said himself that it was extraordinary how I considered every species as equal. I earned this knowledge. You should have told me. End of story.” She was right. They all knew it. Her words hung low as dark clouds on a waste land, and they were all silent, crushed. Though the four of them had always lived with that burden, they constantly reassured themselves, convincing each other they had done “the best thing” by letting her in the dark, suppressing the selfish truth that it was indeed the best thing; but only for them.  
“I need to get out of here.” Boots grabbed her coat and stormed out of the apartment. Yet she returned, wrapped a piece of tart with a napkin, and faced them again.  
“I'm sorry you guys, I just can't deal with this right now, I'm...”  
“Go Boots. But call when you need to be picked up. Please” he handed her her cellphone. She nodded, “I will.”, finally smiled at him. So she left, with a piece of tart and a phone. To god knows where. Hopefully not the Underland. Even though he wasn't sure it was so hopeful.  
“Well that went wonderful.”  
“I had to tell her. I couldn't keep it from her this long.”  
“I know. I know... She would have found out anyway, I suppose. I'm not blaming you.” It sounded weak, vaguely forced. But Gregor appreciated the sentiment.  
“Thanks Mom. I just hope she'll be back soon.”  
“Yeah, me too.”  
Gregor didn't know what to do or how to act in the awkwardness of the room the youngest had left behind. So he did what he did best: he fell into his routine, finding in it a way to ignore the simple fact that he had to interact with his family. He took hold of the plates, placed the spoons, forks and knives on one and let it lay in the sink. He gathered all the other things still laying on the table, replacing each jar in the fridge, stocking the toasts in the cupboard. He heard his mother exchange a few low words with her husband. He might have lived in this apartment for four years, he still felt like a stranger in it, an alien, an unplanned disturbance. So when he heard footsteps weigh on the floor, making the hardwood crack, he tensed, because he wasn't able to detect who was moving, and whether they were coming towards him. As so, while letting cold water plunge toward the plates, he turned his head back, but only caught a glimpse of his mother disappearing through the corridor, heading for her room. It didn't even occur to him that he was the one doing all the work and not his parents until Lizzie neared herself and asked him:  
“So it's still like that?”  
“Like what?”  
“Mom and Dad not realizing you're being the parent?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Oh come on Gregor. After the war, not only did you not know how to be a child, but they couldn't be parents anymore. Normal parents I mean. And it stayed that way. You take care of Margaret, of the house, no matter how much work you have. Neither you or them question it. Margaret might not remember it, but I still remember how it was when dad disappeared. How you took everything on you. At first, before the Underland, you perceived it as an injustice, I think. But you became an adult down there. So when we came back, you stayed that way. Mom and Dad were still sick, so they had to rely on you. It never stopped. They don't understand their role anymore. They forgot that it's not your responsibility to pay the bills or shop ortake us to school or write the check to be sure Margaret could have her volley-ball team sweater or do the laundry, and everything else you've been doing around here for the past years!” she spoke a little loud in the end, but their Dad didn't seem to mind. He was stunned, starring at a spot on the couch, thinking. His Dad had a tendency to over think things.  
Lizzie's words hit Gregor hard. Mostly because he was stunned to realize that she was right. But also because of the aggressiveness in the crackling of her voice. He had always thought he was the only one angry at Grace and Jonathan. But between Boots and Liz, he realized he was actually the most indulgent one of the three. Who would have thought.   
Still, reflecting on what Lizzie had said, he noticed how very true it all was in every detail. He had never truly wondered why the family functioned the way it did, and he had always gone along with it. Now that he thought about it, he remembered how surprised he had been when, upon his return a few days ago, he had found the apartment in a small but consistent mess. Dirty laundry slept in the basket, dust was starting to accumulate on the furniture, and Boots immediately asked him to call the dentist because he had asked for one of the parents to attend the next appointment. The worst was he had agreed, because it seemed normal to him. He took care of them all. Of course, his parents still had some responsibilities, but a lot clung on him; not that he noticed.  
“I never realized. Has it really been like this all along?”  
“Yeah. But it's not your fault Gregor.”  
“Well this isn't. But a lot of what's wrong with this family is my fault.” he looked in his sister's eyes, and she understood what he meant. Their conflict was his fault and he knew it. She knew it. But for once, he pushed himself and actually spoke up about it.  
“Liz, I'm really sorry. I'm just so confused. You know I don't belong here. And for years I've been so miserable, I couldn't stand to talk about what I had lost. You understand what I mean? I'm not making myself excuses, I just want you to get it.”  
“And I do get it. You know, I didn't really act well either. We actually had the same reflex: we both wanted to deny the fact that we were far away from them. So you completely stopped talking about it; I talked about it all the time. In a way, it's the same. But really, sometimes I just wanted to strangle you! It felt like you wanted to forget what we went through, forget them all, and I just couldn't stand it cause what I lived there, those adventures dictate the way I perceive the world until today, they taught me so much. But I didn't live everything you did. You saw so much.” she ran a hand through his hair, and never before had she resembled their mother so much. “And I'm sorry I was too young to understand that.” her voice was so sincere, and her apology so authentic, that a smile bloomed on his face, almost instinctively, and he reached for her and held her against him. It wasn't really a hug, since they just let there arms rest next there bodies, but Lizzie put her head against his heart, in the same gesture as Boots, and it felt right. It really did, it felt like that was the way it should be. Maybe it was.  
The rest of the day went by slowly, yet too quickly in a way. The wait for Boots was agonizing, but Gregor and Lizzie talked about everything that popped through their heads, from his work to Lizzie's classes, to Natasha and to Lizzie wanting to adopt a hamster. It was really nice, even though it remained awkward; they had a lot of things left to say to each other, and they would come to it, someday. Not today. He discovered that Lizzie wasn't so sure if she wanted to become a mathematician after all, and that her teachers were really pressuring her in that direction. She was unsure, and she felt really bad about it, since the parents wanted her to have a brilliant career and to be on the news and all of that. Plus a lot of her classmates envied her for her skills and didn't understand her doubts: everyone wanted to be a mathematician, and if they could, they would. Lizzie wasn't that way.  
“I mean, you could be a warrior, but you're not. You do the exact opposite of fighting. Why can't I decide to do something I want to do, not something I can do?”  
“Cause all they see in you, is what you could be, what you could achieve given your talent. And for them, the best for you is to take the prestigious path. But one doesn't choose there path based on what others think is best. You have to choose something you feel comfortable with, something you can blossom in, you know? Just like I chose to help, instead of harming. But I was really lucky, Mom and Dad didn't expect anything from me. You, you're the genius of the family. Of course they want more from you than from me. But you're my sister, and I just want you to choose something you love, something you can't live without. You just have to define what that is for you. To me, it's being able to act to try to make sure I would never have to see people suffer again. Maybe for you, it's something else. The best thing, the best job, the best career, isn't defined by money, though that is a factor you should keep in mind, or social status. It's defined by what you feel you should be in order to live with yourself everyday.”  
“Gregor, I didn't know you started working at “Little Royalty” because of the war in the Underland! You never told me...”  
“Hey, why are you so surprised? You thought I took that job by default?”  
“No! Well, yes, maybe, kind of? I'm sorry, but when I left, you seemed so lost, so confused, you didn't know what you were gonna do. So when Mom told me you started working there, I just assumed you kept the passive act going, and just accepted that position cause you didn't know what else to do. But I'm so glad you didn't. I'm so glad you found something you love.”  
“Well, I hope you find that too.” he was a bit offended by what Lizzie had said, but decided to get over it, and accept the fact that she was probably right. Two years ago, when he had found an opportunity to work at that organization, he had jumped on it. It was his dream job, and two years into it he had a feeling he would never get sick of it. But obviously, at the time, everyone had thought he had taken it because he had no other choice. He had made it through high school, but barely. His grades ware actually alright, but he wasn't exactly socially apt. He had lost touch with his friends, with the brutal reality of teenagers, and being so adrift, he soon became a loner, and he didn't dare to fight back on those who unleashed their anger on him. He was so afraid of killing them. There was no way he would continue studying. So it had been a coincidence. Well, not completely. He had started volunteering as soon as he had come back, and it had been the only place where he had felt whole. On a warm day in August, after he had graduated, he was at a social center, playing with a few children, when a representative of “Little Royalty” came in. He observed him for a few hours, and when Gregor was about to leave, took him apart, and offered him a job. Without a college degree, just a will to work hard. To help. It was wonderful, simply the best job he could have ever imagined. They had centers all around the country, and originally took care of children, especially those whose homes were unstable or unhealthy. They fed them, played with them, worked with the eldest. It had developed, and they now took care of about anyone that needed a warm meal or a doctor. Funded by the state, and by some rich donors, it was leading in the branch of humanitarian aid in the USA. Until now, he had only worked around New York, but he was quite popular among the group, and, according to Joan, his best friend among the colleagues, their boss had said: “Gregor shows skills I have almost never seen in someone who has only known a normal life. When he speaks to kids, to homeless, it's admirable. He's become a great asset to us.” Gregor had never told anyone, but he was so proud of that statement. He admired his boss a lot, and being characterized by him as an asset, it was simply overwhelming. No one believed in him once they came back, none of his teachers bothered enough to try to understand why that lonely kid was so strange, and he didn't have any friends. But Mr. Peterson believed in him, in the same way Boots did.  
Boots!  
“Liz, isn't it getting late?  
“It's eight, Gregor. I didn't realize.”  
“Boots should be home by now.”  
“She could be.” Soon Gregor couldn't take it anymore, and snapped, “I'm gonna call her, I have to!” the three others tried to protest, stating that she needed space and time, but he didn't care, and when Lizzie tried to stop him by taking the phone, his fear and anxiety burst out, and he exclaimed, “Let me do it, Lizzie, she's my sister!” and raised his arm rather quickly and sharply. Lizzie backed away with panic, and he felt himself boiling. Oh god, the rager was emerging. He retreated with rapid steps, bumping into the table, making the glasses cling, and fall. He needed to get away from them, now. His father approached, but his son rushed to the door. “Don't get closer!”. The last thing he heard was the high shout of Lizzie, “Gregor!”. He found himself on the porch of the building, and dialed her number on his phone. The seconds he waited for the bips, and those he spent torn apart between hoping for the next one, because if he didn't hear it, it would land on the answering machine, and looking forward to not hearing those bips anymore, because he was longing for Boots' voice, were awful.  
Bip. Bip. Bip.  
He started walking down the street.  
Bip. Bip. Bip  
They would only be nine, he knew that.  
Bip. Bip. Bip

“You've reached Margaret's voice mail, leave a message, text me or call back later. Bye!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will you look at that I actually uptaded sorry for the delay!   
> Come say hi on tumblr at ezilo!


	5. Quest(s)

A void. A cold. A freeze. It felt familiar.  
Oh right. The same sensation had imprisoned his body when he thought he had lost Boots to the rats. It had been the second quest. The one where he had met Howard, when those flies had eaten Pandora. “Where bat?” echoed in his head.  
“Gregor!” he raised his head towards the shout, and saw Lizzie's face in the window of the apartment, hair dandling around it as she looked down on him.  
“Lizzie! Do not bend that far!” she giggled. “Come back! Please, we need you!” she didn't seem upset at all by his violent reaction.  
“I can't Liz. I might hurt you.”  
“No you won't. You can control it.”  
“Elizabeth, no!” calling her by her full name was always effective, given the fact that he only called her Lizzie. She didn't seem to care, though.  
“Yes you can! Ripred told me you could.”  
“He told you what?”  
“Before we left, I was talking to him about your raging, and he told me to keep an eye on you, but that you could control it.” he didn't get all of that, because five floors separated them, but he did comprehend that Ripred trusted him. That he was sure he could master his raging. He had had no clue. Still, that rat had said a lot of things.  
“Gregor, please. We can't be separated again. The three of us. We have to stick together. We have to find her. Gregor.” he barely saw her in the dim light, but her words brushed his skin, and he had never felt their relationship so strongly. She was right. Boots needed them. But going back to that room with three people he resented in some way; it was too dangerous. He approached the intercom and rang at 5B.  
“Um, hello?”  
“Liz, it's me. I can't go back, I'm too...”  
“Ragy?”  
“Yeah, you got that right. But we need to find Boots. She isn't answering the phone. I'm worried Liz. I really am.”  
“Me too. Where could she have gone?”  
“Our old apartment. Central park.”  
“The park we used to go to. School. Anywhere, really.”  
“We'll start there. Come down, Liz.”  
“I'll be there in a sec.” she turned it off and he backed away, slipping back in the fresh air surrounding him. October had been surprisingly warm, and November was following its lead, but the nights announced the coming winter. Where was Boots? Why had he let her go? She said she'd call. Why hadn't she called? Was she alright? He started imagining all the things that could go wrong, but stopped himself; it didn't make any sense. He needed to calm down. Focus on finding his sister. Lizzie opened the door violently, stepped down the three stairs with rage and came crashing down on him. He took her in his arms, but it was a short embrace. Meant to give them courage. Determination. It did.  
“No Mom and Dad?”  
“Don't. They are insufferable, Gregor!”  
“Nah, just worried.”  
“Yeah well that's their problem! Okay, where do we start?”  
“Our old apartment?”  
“Sure.”  
They walked towards the subway station, in a thoughtful silence. They were ruminating the whole day, the positive sides. Like their hours long dialog, or the hugs they had shared over the day. But nervous as they both were, Boots' screams, her disappearance, the absent role they parents retained were much more present in their memories. And, of course, the still remaining distance between them. Gregor was hesitant, Lizzie was above shy. This really wasn't going to be easy. He was about to speak up, when he suddenly realized he didn't have a ticket.  
“Dammit Liz, I forgot to take tickets!” that was just perfect. They would have to go back, and their parents would want to accompany them, it would be a whole thing. They would scream and fight, and he wasn't sure he could control himself. Suddenly, dangling tickets fell in front of his eyes, and he turned his head towards Lizzie. She smiled and held them in front of him.  
“I packed ten of them. I also have cash, a picture of Margaret in case we need to ask people, dad's keys, my phone, and skittles.”  
“Skittles?”  
“What? They calm me.” she illustrated that with throwing three into her mouth. He chuckled and held his hand out. She laid the ticket in his palm.  
“I was hoping for skittles!”  
“Yes I know.” she raised her eyebrow and a smirk fell onto her face. She raced to the turnstile and shoved the ticket in the line, the machine printing the date and the station in a violet ink. Shaking the red box, she teased him, “Catch me if you can!” and she ran. A tingling feeling invaded his half-broken heart, and he quickly made his way to the station, hearing his sister laugh, even though she was at least 20 meters away. He hadn't run with such a conviction since he finished high school. He had run tracks during the whole of his high school education, and it had been another way to escape the reality of not being in the Underland. But he had stopped after graduating, because of his work. And completely giving himself to the run felt really good, it reminded him of a time before the Underland, when he was unhappy but innocent, in a way. A time he could play with his sisters, and he needed to do this again, to play with his sister once more. The combination of adrenaline due to the run, the familiarity of the subway and the joy of chasing Lizzie made him nostalgic. In a good way. And maybe even cheerful. He rushed down the stairs and spotted her at the end of the platform, awaiting him. He felt like his smile would eventually break his skin, but making his way to her, he refused to let it slip; he wanted her to know he was honestly happy to be with her. The subway arrived, and she eagerly opened the doors, stepping into a car and waving at him with a mocking look. He ran faster, in an attempt to catch her, and as beeps emerged from the train, he jumped into it, and saw her running, looking back to him with malice. He soon took hold of her arm, and spun her around to face him. A gloom in her eyes; he guessed the same in his own. They laughed at each other, enveloped in their one silliness, and he held out his other hand. She placed a purple skittle between his middle finger and his index. “My favorite.” he told her. They were both panting and he flung an arm around her waist, leading her to a pair of free seats. “Come on, you wicked sister. Let's go find her.” Nothing was right but something was better now.  
Once they emerged from the station where they had lived, Lizzie headed for the nearby park and Gregor for the building where their old apartment lay. Luckily, someone was just entering, and he slipped inside after the tall red-headed man. Walking the stairs, he felt the estranged familiarity of what he had once called home. He had gotten up those stairs on so many occasions, and still an artificiality remained in his shifts, in the succession of his movements. Perhaps it was because it had been so many years ago, perhaps he had actually changed since the move. He was suddenly aware of how much that day had changed him, provoking a metamorphose he never expected in himself. His happy(ish) facade had crumbled, and he had let himself be real, be raw, in front of someone else than Boots. It had resulted in an actual, real, happiness that had taken him completely aback. It was only when he reached his floor that he realized the elevator had been working all along. Some things do change. Boots wasn't there. He made his way to the other floors, but they were deserted. Where was she? And then it hit him. There was another floor that needed to be visited. He rushed to the basement, imagining Boots diving into the tunnel, disappearing into the Underland merely seconds before he arrived. He wasn't certain he would even survive her absence. He almost tripped and fell, but caught himself at the last minute; and saw her. Curled up on the last stair leading to the laundry room, eyes lost in contemplation of the opposite wall that held the entrance to what used to be their world. She had been crying, and the way she held her legs against her chest showed how desperate she was. She only made this gesture when times were extremely dark.  
“Hey, princess.”  
“Gregor? How did you find me?”  
“They aren't so many places you could be. How are you feeling?”  
“Not so great.” that wasn't a good sign. Boots not being ironic about being miserable was equivalent to a catastrophe. So he walked slowly to the stair and sat calmly next to her. Silence weighed, but Gregor had no idea how to break it.  
“You know, you stood right there” he pointed to a spot between two dryers. “You had jam all over your face. I took your shorts off because it was too warm. You wore those little sandals I knew you'd outgrow in two months. It was a normal afternoon, really, I was just unhappy because Lizzie went to camp. Don't get me wrong, I loved taking care of you, but I was eleven. And I couldn't go to camp. Two years later I was thirteen, stood right there and I couldn't go home. Weird, right?” she didn't react but sniffed.  
“Wait, you were unhappy?”  
“Yeah. Camp, like I told you.”  
“Really? Was it only that?” her eyes finally turned to him, and for the first time he couldn't stand their look. It bore through him, it multiplied his guilt, and he had to anchor his eyes to the ground, for his sister had just supplied him with the scariest glare he had ever endured. And he had battled giant rats. Just saying. But he attempted to answer her, transporting himself back to that time, back to him then, back to Boots being a toddler. Back to no father. He still felt the constant pinch in his chest the absence of his father had caused, and couldn't believe he had forgotten how the rotten sensation invaded his body every hour of the day. He had watched the courtyard as it was shone upon by the agonizing sun that August had brought. His grandma had been delirious, calling him Simon once more. His Grandma. Boots had been named after her. He had never realized, but maybe he avoided calling her sister by her name because it hurt too much to think of his grandmother. The day she died, he had been left with a five-year old Boots who didn't understand why her grandma wasn't there. His parents were at the hospital, dealing with the paperwork. Lizzie was at the library. Boots was shouting at him. It had been horrible.  
The day he fell for the first time had been too, really. He had counted the days his father had been gone, again.  
“Two years, seven months, and thirteen days...”  
“What?”  
“Dad had been gone two years, seven months, and thirteen days. I used to count the days”  
“You did? I don't even remember a time without Dad. So you counted every single day?”  
“I used to do hours too.”  
“You're kidding?” she seemed skeptical. But he was telling the truth. And she couldn't handle it. She couldn't handle any of it. Not her past, not the truth. She was a child. He couldn't believe he had told her about the Underland. Her very face proved that she had no idea how to control the storm he had caused. Her breaths were long and her eyes were wide, as she descended her forehead into her joined hands. She was panicking. He knew her.  
“The truth is, I was always unhappy. My dad disappeared, my Mom worked twenty four hours a day, I was trying to get it together, school, my sisters, money. But the worst was not knowing. The police thought Dad left with another woman, and I think Mom was so desperate she actually started believing it. But I didn't. Still, I forced myself not to think about it, because of the Rule.”  
“Ah yes, the Rule.” Sarcasm. He took it really hard, because that time where he had imposed barriers into his own mind had been torture, and she had no idea. He was about to respond bitterly when she leaned forward and rushed to the washer placed in front of the entrance to the world they stood upon, and propelled the machine to the side, face covered in tears preparing to dive to an ocean of gigantic animals. He ran to his sister and grabbed her by the waist, pulling on her small frame.  
“No, Gregor let me go!” she cried and shouted and desperately clung to the hole in the grayed wall. It wasn't covered or anything, which seemed really odd; he was sure his mother had taped all over it before they left. Under his fingers Boots' skin was burning. She was hysterically screaming at him that he should let her go, just let her go. And for an instant, even if he felt horrible to contemplate that option, he considered to do so, to release the pull on his muscles and let her fall into an obscure pit that led to an obscure world. But he didn't. Because fleeing had never really been a solution. And boy, he had tried it. Lots and lots of times. Gregor balanced himself, placing his weight on his heels, and managed to lift her in the air. She was struggling in his embrace, but he wasn't worried about her strength. No, he was worried because he had lived with Lizzie for years, and he would have recognized the signs of a panic attack on every person in the world. The pale shade of her skin, the terror her every movement revealed, the tensing of her muscles, the flood of tears and the sobs whose increasing rhythm wrecked her body and tortured him: this was definitely a panic attack.  
“No! Let me go, just let me go, I can't live up here anymore! Let me, I know you want it too! Gregor!” her high-pitched voice leaked agonizing. Those were screams of a wounded, of a dying. He sat down on the stairs, holding her firmly, because she was incredibly violent. The pressure he exercised on her forearms would leave marks, but he didn't care. He needed her above the surface. So he would keep her there. Ultimately, she bent down, still sat on his lap, head above her shins. It felt horrible to keep her against him knowing how everything he could say would be wrong. As usual. She didn't seem to acknowledge his presence, so he took his phone out and dialed Lizzie's number, pushed the button marked with a green phone.  
“Hi, Gregor, did you find her?”  
“It's me Liz. I found her in the basement. You better come over.”  
“I'll be there soon. Thanks Gregor. Wait for me, alright?”  
“Always, pumpkin.” Waouh. He had called her “pumpkin”. He hadn't called her that in years. Still he hadn't sacrificed that nickname and refused to call anyone else that. Pumpkin had been a nickname he had given her early on, because when they were children, on that one day after their dad was gone, there was nothing in the fridge, since Grace hadn't had time to shop; she had taken another shift, to do extra money. All they had left was a slice of pumpkin. And Lizzie was so hungry. So he cut the pumpkin, put it in the oven. He was nine, so his cooking skills were minor. But he managed to serve a pretty decent pumpkin. At least he supposed so, since Lizzie had eaten all of it, had begged for more and since then it had been one of her favorite dishes. Pumpkin. He hadn't thought of that in years, but it came automatically out of him. Boots still lay against him, she seemed exhausted. The extraordinary strength she had dislplayed slipped from her hands and she couldn't even sit up. So he let his left hand rest on her back, and another fall on her hair, knowing any brusque movement could trigger another crisis. And he waited. He waited for Boots to calm down or for Lizzie to come. He didn't know anymore. But he did know he was deeply afraid of the girl that had crashed against his chest. His sister terrified him. How could she want to go back, leaving him alone? How could she make him hurt her? He never wanted to cause any more suffering to anyone, least of all his little sister. Oh Boots. She seemed full of pain, anguish, not wanting to raise herself.  
Small steps echoed from the staircase. Those were Lizzie's steps, he was practically sure. They were light, sudden sounds because she walked fast and always wore flats. She was probably afraid of making any noise, as if hiding from an enemy. Old habits die hard. Sure enough, her sneakers appeared and she rushed to her brother, nudged her head against his shoulder, and he let a hand cover her shoulder briefly. Lizzie pulled away and turned to her sister.  
“What happened?”  
“Panic attack.”  
“Seriously?”  
“Yeah. Must run in the family. Sorry I called you so late. I didn't want to make you face her in that state.”  
“Why? Who other than me could understand her? Could comfort her?”  
“No one, I know, Liz. But you never saw someone having an attack. It's really frightening. I learned to deal with it over the years, and Boots was born knowing how to handle you. But you never saw that kind of a breakdown. And I don't want you to have to.”  
“Oh. Well, thank you?” she guessed. He had only wanted to protect her. She knew it, apparently.  
“So what are we gonna do?”  
“We should take her home. She's so tired.” he softly ran a hand through her hair “You should wake her.” he told Lizzie, even though he wasn't sure she was sleeping. But she only nodded and put a hand on Margaret's shoulder. Leaning so her lips neared themselves to the youngest's ear.  
“Margaret? Sweetie? We're going...” she drifted off, bit her lip “We're going back to the apartment. Why don't you come with us? You must be hungry. And there's a warm bed awaiting you. How about that?” Boots didn't answer. Lizzie looked back at her brother, wondering why she stood still. And then he understood her fear, and mouthed, “Mom and Dad”. Understanding rushed to her face, and she continued her speech. “Mom and Dad will be sleeping. And if they're awake, we will make sure they will not bother you if you don’t want them to. We will. Because I'm your sister, you hear me? And he's your brother. We carry the same blood, we protect you. And we adore you. Let us take care of you. Please.” given how emotional Lizzie was, Gregor expected her to burst into tears. But she stood tall, eyes dry, focused on her sibling. Maybe he had underestimated the concern and tenderness Elizabeth felt towards Margaret. Their relationship was as strong as it had always been, beyond the fences of distance and a hostile brother. Boots mumbled quietly, but they didn't understand. “What did you say sweetie?” she lifted her head up and, contemplating them, whispered, “Will you guys sleep in my room tonight?” they both looked upon her fondly, just like Gregor had the day she said his name, just like Lizzie had in the days after Gregor's fight with the Bane, when Boots had taken her hand, and had spoken to her, eye to eye, with such a confidence she had never seen before, “Gre-go will wake up. I know it.”. That had been impressive, and Lizzie had vowed, on that day, that she would never forget what a stunning person her sister was. And how much she needed her.  
Therefore, they promised, together, that they would spend the night in Boots' bedroom. And her small smile was worth so much more than a night in a sleeping bag against the hardwood floor. So much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is badly edited I'm quite sorry  
> All of your comments warm my heart. Thank you 
> 
> [Come say hi and harrass me to update on tumblr](https://ezilo.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> So... that was the first chapter. The next ones will be longer (maybe too long honestly). The fic is done, I'm correcting it though and since English isn't my first language I'm struggling a bit. You're welcome to tell me if I have made any mistakes!


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